


maybe i'll just slow it down

by tintedglasses



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, In a kinky way, Light Dom/sub, M/M, basically a pwp but theres a smidge of plot, quarantine haircut (although not explicitly so)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tintedglasses/pseuds/tintedglasses
Summary: Bucky sucks Clint’s bottom lip into his own mouth, running the tip of his tongue along it slowly. He pulls Clint’s lip with him as he leans back, until it pops out of his mouth. He looks up at Clint from under his lashes, taking in Clint’s slightly dazed expression.“You gonna miss tugging my hair while you fuck my throat?” Bucky asks in a low voice, just loud enough for them to hear.Clint’s grip on his head tightens, the press of his fingers against Bucky’s scalp making Bucky’s body slump a little as his brain whites out at the edges.“You’re a menace, you know that?” But Clint dips in to kiss Bucky again, the slick sounds of their mouths moving together reverberating off of the shower walls, so it’s clear Clint doesn’t mind one bit.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	maybe i'll just slow it down

**Author's Note:**

> (if this fic looks familiar, it's because it's an edited re-post of a fic i posted a few days ago. if you saw the last fic, no you didn't.)
> 
> this has been affectionately called the slowjob fic and it's basically 80% blowjob, 20% quarantine haircut. it be like that sometimes.
> 
> unbeta'd.

“Where do you want me?” Bucky asks Clint, looking around their bathroom/makeshift barbershop.

“Edge of the tub,” Clint says, waving his hand vaguely in that direction as he rifles through the cabinet under the sink. He pulls out scissors and an electric razor, the cord slightly chewed up from where Lucky must have gotten it. 

Bucky steps into the tub and sits down on the edge.

“No,” Clint says, and Bucky looks over his shoulder at him. Clint twirls his finger in a circle. “Turn around so you’re facing the room. Then you can tilt your head back and let the hair fall in the tub.”

“Okay, yeah,” Bucky says, turning around, running his hand through his hair to pull the small knots free. These little knots are half the reason he’s made the decision to have Clint cut his hair off; no matter how often he brushes it, his hair tangles within five minutes flat and it’s been grating on Bucky’s nerves. The other half of the reason is that he just wants something different. Something new. 

Clint comes to stand in front of him, gently pulling Bucky’s hand away from his hair with his empty hand, and kissing his fingertips lightly. Bucky shudders as the gesture makes the nerves in his arm light up, the hairs on his forearm standing on end. 

Clint drops Bucky’s hand to reach up and card his own fingers through Bucky’s hair, brushing it all back and away from his face. He smooths his hand along the side of Bucky’s head until his hand is cupping Bucky’s skull just behind his ear. He tightens his grip as he leans down, resting his forehead against Bucky’s for balance. Kisses Bucky once softly before kissing him again, pressing in harder.

Bucky sucks Clint’s bottom lip into his own mouth, running the tip of his tongue along it slowly. He pulls Clint’s lip with him as he leans back, until it pops out of his mouth. He looks up at Clint from under his lashes, taking in Clint’s slightly dazed expression.

“You gonna miss tugging my hair while you fuck my throat?” Bucky asks in a low voice, just loud enough for them to hear.

Clint’s grip on his head tightens, the press of his fingers against Bucky’s scalp making Bucky’s body slump a little as his brain whites out at the edges. 

“You’re a menace, you know that?” But Clint dips in to kiss Bucky again, the slick sounds of their mouths moving together reverberating off of the shower walls, so it’s clear Clint doesn’t mind one bit. 

“That’s what my therapist tells me,” Bucky breathes out in between kisses. 

Clint tilts his head so their foreheads rest together again, breathing out a laugh against Bucky’s chin. “Mine, too.”

He stands up then, running his hands back through Bucky’s hair to smooth down where he messed up, his calloused fingertips slightly catching on Bucky’s skin. 

Bucky leans forward, pressing his face against the front of Clint’s sweatpants, dragging the tip of his nose along Clint’s half-hard length. He shifts to prop his chin against Clint’s waistband, his breath exhaling hot against the sliver of skin showing above them, as he asks, “Wanna do it one more time? For old time’s sake?”

Clint runs his hand through Bucky’s hair again and Bucky can feel his own eyes go a little hazy when he catches on a knot and tugs slightly. Clint smooths the knot out gently, tilting his head as he considers it. 

Bucky rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking at it lightly, internally pleased as Clint’s eyes track the movement. Tilting his head, he presses his mouth against Clint’s stomach and sucks at the skin, making Clint shudder. He pulls away, admiring the shine of spit he’s left behind, and winks up at Clint.

The razor clatters as Clint drops it on the counter, his newly-empty hand going immediately to join the other on Bucky’s head. He presses his fingertips at the edge of Bucky’s hairline and presses in, maintaining the pressure as his fingers curve over the top of Bucky’s scalp and down to his neck. Bucky melts forward at the sensation, his face now firmly pressed against Clint’s dick, his mouth open around a harsh exhale.

“That’s it,” Clint says, almost cooing as he repeats the motion of his fingers again. “You gonna get me all wet?” 

Bucky hums in the back of his throat, shifting so he can get his mouth around Clint’s dick through his sweatpants. He sucks at the fabric, pushing the spit from the back of his throat forward with his tongue to soak it, the fabric melding itself around Clint as it gets wetter. He does this for the entire length of Clint’s dick until he can feel the wet fabric getting his chin all messy no matter where he sucks. 

Clint makes a fist with one of his hands, tugging Bucky’s head back and tilting it up by the hair. Bucky can’t help but close his eyes as he groans and a shudder runs down his spine. 

Clint’s other hand cups Bucky’s cheek, his thumb sweeping across Bucky’s chin and pushing the moisture back into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky sucks at Clint’s thumb until Clint tightens his grip in Bucky’s hair, making Bucky’s mouth fall open on a gasp. 

“Look at me,” Clint says in a low voice.

Bucky opens his eyes just enough to see Clint, the sparks of pain from his hair making his brain go a little floaty. 

Despite Clint’s firm grip in Bucky’s hair, his eyes are tender as he looks down at Bucky, stroking his face idly. “Why don’t you go ahead and get my dick in your mouth?”

Bucky swallows harshly, his voice raspy as he says, “Yeah, sweetheart. Okay.”

He tries to look at Clint’s waistband as he reaches his hands up to tug the sweatpants down, but he lets out a sharp gasp when Clint’s grip on his hair doesn’t budge. Bucky pauses for a second to breath through the sensation, letting the jolt of pain center him again. Clint watches him until he can tell that Bucky has worked his way through it. “Nuh uh, babe,” he says, once Bucky’s relaxed again. He shakes Bucky’s head lightly with his grip. “I control this, okay? It’s my last time for a while, so I want to do it right.”

Bucky shudders at Clint’s show of authority. He’s undeniably in control right now and it makes Bucky’s head swim.

“Go ahead.” Clint nudges Bucky’s foot with his to get his attention. “Pull them down.”

Bucky slides his hands up from where they came to rest on Clint’s thighs until he can hook his fingers in the elastic of the waistband. He runs his hands back and forth a few times, letting his knuckles rub against Clint’s lower abs and the muscles at the V of his hips, watching as Clint chews on his lip. He pulls the pants down, Clint’s dick getting caught for a moment while Bucky tries to work the wet fabric over it without being able to see. He figures it out with a little fumbling and Clint’s dick nudges him under the chin when it comes free.

He doesn’t try to move this time, instead just waiting to see what Clint will do. 

Clint rubs his thumb along Bucky’s eyebrow before cupping the back of his head. He loosens his grip on Bucky’s hair with the other hand, until both hands are resting against the ridge of Bucky’s skull, fingers woven through his hair. 

“Ready?” Clint asks.

Bucky almost tries to nod before stopping himself. Without moving his head, he responds, “Yeah.”

“What do you do if it’s too much?”

Bucky squeezes Clint’s thighs with his hands three times in quick succession. 

“Good,” Clint says, scratching his nails against Bucky’s scalp lightly. Bucky feels moisture pooling in his mouth as he waits for Clint to make a move. Finally, Clint does, tightening his grip to tilt Bucky’s face toward his dick. Bucky wants to strain forward to get his mouth all the way around it, but Clint orders, “Lick it.”

Bucky has to extend his tongue almost all the way out to touch Clint’s dick, relegated to tracing the slit with the tip of his tongue and flicking it along the crown of Clint’s head. With his tongue stuck out like this, some of the saliva in his mouth pools on the flat of his tongue and he has to swallow it down to avoid gagging. 

Clint pulls his head closer and Bucky licks a long, wet stripe up the length of his dick slowly, and then repeats it, looking up at Clint under his lashes. Clint is quiet, just watching Bucky work his tongue over his dick. 

Bucky lets his tongue cradle Clint’s dick and slowly caresses it by undulating his tongue, the spit making the glide easier. He points his tongue and traces Clint’s skin, feeling it shift along hard, smooth tissue. He can see Clint’s abs twitch every so often, belying his arousal. 

Clint lets Bucky lick his dick a little longer before shifting Bucky’s head so that he can slide inside Bucky’s mouth. Bucky holds his jaw open, letting Clint pull Bucky’s head back and forth so Clint’s dick rubs along his tongue. Bucky’s attention is torn between the taste of Clint and Clint’s hands in his hair, making pleasure dance across his scalp like static with each pull.

Clint pulls Bucky close until his dick is curving down Bucky’s throat and Bucky has to swallow against the intrusion. He keeps his mouth open, though, until Clint orders, “Suck.”

Bucky closes his mouth and sucks as Clint pulls him back slowly off of his dick, his lips dragging along the length, spit bubbling in the corners of his mouth before slipping down. Clint stops just before the head of his dick falls out of Bucky’s mouth and pulls him back in just as slowly, making Bucky savor the taste.

“Fuck,” Clint groans, soft and quick, maintaining the slow glide with his grip in Bucky’s hair. “That mouth is so fucking good, babe. So wet and hot, just for me.”

Bucky hums and Clint twitches forward, nudging the back of Bucky’s mouth. Bucky swallows against the intrusion, Clint’s dick slipping a little further down his throat. Clint holds him there for a moment before pulling him back again by the hair, setting a slow but steady rhythm that has Bucky fighting the urge to choke each time.

It gets easier with each stroke, the uncomfortable itch in the back of his throat fading as he starts to drift into that semi-conscious space he goes to sometimes. Sometimes, when he remembers bad things, that space feels cold, like a feeling left over from his time in cryo. Clint’s hands in his hair help keep him in that safe floaty space, though, each tug of his grip helping center Bucky and keeping him from drifting too far. It’s impossible not to feel warm when he’s surrounded by Clint like this.

Bucky can hear Clint talking above him and zones back in enough to hear him saying, “Always so good at this, sweetheart, fuck. You’re going to end up doing what I say even without this hair to pull on, huh? That’s how bad you want it.”

Clint pulls Bucky in tight, gripping his hair hard as he holds him all the way down on his cock. Bucky swallows harshly, a gasp getting stuck in his throat, his spine going completely lax as his body is flooded with the sensation sparking from his scalp. He feels like his head would roll back if Clint wasn’t holding it so tightly, like he would moan Clint’s name loud enough for the neighbors to hear if Clint’s dick wasn’t down Bucky’s throat.

Instead, he squirms as much as he can, reveling in the feeling of being on the edge. His throat works around muffled whines, unintentionally massaging Clint’s dick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Clint whines. “That’s not even fair.”

Bucky can tell through the haziness that Clint is close and as much as he doesn’t want this to end, he also isn’t sure how much more his throat, or scalp, can take. So he reaches up and runs his fingernails lightly down Clint’s abs, like he knows Clint likes.

Clint grunts and stumbles slightly, his hand pulling at Bucky’s hair once again as he tries not to fall. Bucky moans at the burst of pain and the vibrations push Clint over the edge. One hand leaves Bucky’s hair and Bucky hears it slap against the wall as Clint’s back curls outward, his dick pushing in a little further as he spills down Bucky’s throat.

Bucky fights the urge to gag, tapping Clint’s thigh lightly until Clint backs off a little.

“Sorry,” Clint chokes out. “Shit. Sweetheart.”

Bucky shakes his head slightly to ward off the apology and keeps sucking lazily, ignoring the way his jaw twinges. He doesn’t stop until Clint pulls lightly at his hair once more, moving Bucky back far enough so Clint can drop down to his knees and pull Bucky in for a kiss.

Clint pulls back enough to say “want me to do you?” but Bucky shakes his head and kisses Clint again instead. Sometimes arousal doesn’t translate into getting hard for reasons that Bucky doesn’t really understand, but he doesn’t mind all that much. He feels _good_ and that’s what’s most important (and god, he thinks his therapist would pass out from pure joy from hearing him say that. They may have been working on it for a while.)

They swap lazy kisses for a while as Clint settles back down, his skin cooling underneath Bucky’s fingertips. They drift apart naturally, pulling away to rest their foreheads together in sync. Bucky slowly slides his forehead down the side of Clint’s face until it comes to rest tucked into Clint’s neck, jostled slightly by the light bounce of Clint’s shoulder as he laughs softly.

Bucky feels Clint kiss the side of his head, his hands sliding into Bucky’s hair to pet him gently.

“I love you,” Bucky breathes into Clint’s skin. He doesn’t know what compels him to say it, but he never denies himself when the urge to say it bubbles up.

“Love you, too,” Clint says right back, like always.

As the haze of getting Clint off settles, Bucky feels himself slumping, feeling suddenly tired. He presses his face into Clint’s neck more firmly, letting Clint hold his weight.

Clint strokes at the nape of Bucky’s neck, occasionally massaging at the firm muscle. “You okay, babe?” he asks quietly.

Bucky sighs deeply, letting his body slump even further into Clint for a moment before sitting up. He scrubs at his face with his palms and then lets his hands flop down, giving Clint a small smile. “Yeah, just a little tired.”

“You wanna save your haircut for tomorrow?” Clint asks. His voice is gentle, but he puts on a little leer, lifting his eyebrows at Bucky. “We could do this again one more time.”

Huffing out a breath around a laugh, Bucky shoves lightly at Clint’s shoulder. “Insatiable. Who’s the menace now?”

Clint just grins at Bucky, tucking a stray strand of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. 

Bucky pulls himself out of his slump, rolling his shoulders back into a satisfying stretch, letting his head loll back as he blinks against the harsh overhead light. Clint runs a hand through Bucky’s hair until he’s cupping the back of Bucky’s skull, letting Bucky rest some of his weight in his palm. His eyes are soft, but there’s a little smirk flirting with the edges of his mouth.

The moment hangs there for a while, Clint looking at Bucky, his fingers lightly stroking Bucky’s scalp, his head haloed by the fluorescent light, before it’s broken by Clint murmuring, “You ever seen those videos where they cut hair with fire?”

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do, Bucky sits up straight, the most alert he’s felt all day. “Clint, no.”

“Buck, c’mon.” Clint is laughing, but Bucky can also see in his eyes that while it might have started as a joke, there’s a little seed of an idea planting itself in Clint’s head now. “I was in the circus! I know how to handle fire.”

“Absolutely not.”

Clint cups Bucky’s face with his hands, trying to pull a serious face, but Bucky can tell he’s close to laughter. “Baby. I would be so good at it.”

Bucky lightly grasps both of Clint’s wrists, rubbing his thumbs against the delicate inner skin. “You know I love you more than anything, but I draw the line at letting you set me on fire.”

Rolling his eyes playfully, Clint says “Alright, alright. I guess boundaries are healthy in a relationship. No setting each other on fire.” 

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“What about those ones where they cut the hair with swords, though? I’m sure Nat’s got--”

Bucky pushes Clint back, laughing despite himself. “Scissors and razor only.”

“Okay, okay,” Clint says with his hands up in surrender. He grabs the scissors off the counter and twirls them around his index finger a few times before closing his hand around them to stop the motion. He steps closer to Bucky and cups his cheek briefly once more, Bucky’s eyes closing as the cold metal of the scissors in his right hand makes contact with his face.

He can feel Clint grab a section of his hair and pull it out taut and he hears the scissors before he feels the tension on his scalp release, the sliding of metal loud in his ears. Strands of hair brush past his ear, falling into the tub behind him, joined by the clump that Clint lets go. Clint rubs his thumb around the shell of Bucky’s ear, freeing some of the strands that got caught.

“Is this okay?” Clint’s voice is different now. Tender, almost. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, his voice a little raspy at the edges. “You can keep going.”

Clint kisses the edge of Bucky’s ear before taking another section of Bucky’s hair and repeating the process. The slide of the scissors is hypnotic in a way, the noise lulling Bucky into a quiet space within his mind. With each snip he feels lighter. It feels like letting go.

He doesn’t know how long it takes, but eventually he’s pulled out of that space by Clint running his hand across Bucky’s scalp. Bucky can feel that the cut is uneven, the glide of Clint’s hand interrupted by patches of longer strands, but it’s undeniable that it’s short now, shorter than he can ever remember it being.

Bucky’s eyes stay open this time as Clint swaps the scissors for the razor, the buzzing noise filling up the bathroom when he flicks them on. The razor tickles a little as it passes over his scalp and Bucky almost wants to cry at the care Clint takes, the way he gently folds Bucky’s ear out of the way and how he methodically runs his hands over his scalp to find any lingering uneven patches. It’s not natural for Clint to be careful, but he always tries for Bucky and it never fails to make Bucky feel like he matters. Like maybe even if he is a bit messed up inside, someone cares enough not to break him any further.

Clint clicks the razor off and the sudden silence in the room breaks Bucky out of his thoughts. He meets Clint’s eyes again and is surprised to see Clint looking intently at him, an indecipherable glint in his eyes. 

“What?” Bucky asks, his hand coming up to rub against his newly-shorn scalp, his shoulders curving in. “Does it look bad?”

Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Clint huffs out a breath. “‘Does it look bad?’ he asks.”

Some of the tension fades, but Bucky still feels a little self-conscious. He knows that Clint loves him no matter what, but he also knows that Clint really loved Bucky’s long hair. “Well? Does it?”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Clint pouts, turning half away from Bucky. “If anything, you look even hotter. It’s not fair.”

Bucky is laughing before he even realizes it, reaching out to pull Clint back to him. He hadn’t even really thought to worry about Clint not finding him attractive, but it’s still a relief to find out that he still does. “Well, aren’t you lucky, then, sweetheart?”

He rolls his eyes and then kisses Bucky firmly, a lingering heat beneath the kiss that promises for more later. 

When Clint pulls away, Bucky stands up to look in the mirror, taking in his new look for the first time. He tilts his head from side to side, examining every angle. The light from above almost makes the short strands glitter as he rubs his hand against the grain, feeling the even stubble. It’s different, but it feels good.

“Is it okay?” Clint asks, stooping down to hook his chin over Bucky’s shoulder. He looks a little nervous, like maybe he thinks Bucky regrets letting him do it.

“You’re right. It does look good,” Bucky says with a smirk. 

Clint kisses Bucky’s cheek before shifting up to rest his chin on Bucky’s head, his arms around Bucky’s waist. Bucky turns around so that he’s facing Clint, his hands coming up to rest on the sides of Clint’s neck as Clint steps back to look at him. 

Tilting his head, Clint asks, “How much do you think I could get for your hair on eBay?”

“If you even try it, I’ll cut your hair off while you’re asleep,” Bucky warns.

“Aw, babe,” Clint croons, rocking them back and forth slightly. “You want to match? That’s adorable.”

“You’re such an asshole.” Bucky tries to glare at him, but he knows Clint can probably see the laughter he’s fighting back.

“I’m just saying, it’d be embarrassing how into me you are if I wasn’t just as into you,” Clint says, batting his eyelashes at Bucky.

“Into me enough to clean all this up?” Bucky asks, gesturing at the hair in the tub.

Narrowing his eyes, Clint stops rocking them. “I see what you did there. Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous so I will.” He pauses, his face lighting up as an idea hits him. “But only if you go order a pizza.”

“Now?” Bucky asks. “It’s got to be past midnight.”

Clint just arches an eyebrow at him, which is fair.

“Alright,” Bucky laughs, extracting himself from Clint’s grip and heading towards the door. He stops in the doorway, looking back at Clint. “Hey,” he says, adding when Clint turns, “Thank you.”

Clint’s mouth curves into a soft grin, his eyes warm. “Of course. I’ll trade you haircuts for blowjobs anytime.”

Bucky gives him one last grin before leaving the room. “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
